


Too Quiet

by J_D_McCormick



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce is still trying to figure out this dad malarky, Fluff Out The Wazoo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 05:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14277708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_D_McCormick/pseuds/J_D_McCormick
Summary: “You need something kid?” Bruce asks softly. Dick glances at him for a moment before looking down at the floorboards again.“I… I can’t sleep.” Dick mumbles, so quiet it’s almost lost.“Bad dreams?”“No. Well… yes, sometimes, but…” Dick casts around as if trying to find the words written in the air. “It’s too quiet."





	Too Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> Remember that little headcanon I had about Dick sleeping in Bruce's room a lot as a kid, well HERE'S A MINI-FIC FOR IT
> 
> I considered expanding it to go through the years Dick spends sleeping next to Bruce but... the short and sweet approach I think works too :) Perhaps I'll do an extended version later.

Bruce comes to, knowing something has woken him up, but the knowledge of what that is lost to the fog of tiredness. It’s dark – night, then, on one of the nights he takes to get a decent night of sleep instead of patrol. Those are a little more common now that he has Dick.

He hears the sound of a floorboard creaking outside his bedroom door. He reckons that that is probably what woke him – he’s not exactly a light sleeper, but he will wake easily to the sounds of someone nearby. He shifts to sit upright and look over at the door, listening more closely to try and determine who could be coming to his bedroom door in the middle of the night – it’s certainly not Alfred.

Another floorboard creaks. He can’t hear the sounds of the actual footsteps. Someone barefoot, light on their feet, small. His automatic sleuthing puts the pieces together just as the door creaks open carefully and reveals the culprit.

“Dick.”

The boy shuffles a little in the doorway, not quite looking up at Bruce, lingering half-hidden in the doorway.

“You need something kid?” Bruce asks softly. Dick glances at him for a moment before looking down at the floorboards again.

“I… I can’t sleep.” Dick mumbles, so quiet it’s almost lost.

“Bad dreams?”

“No. Well… yes, sometimes, but…” Dick casts around as if trying to find the words written in the air. “It’s too quiet. At the circus we slept in the train cars so I had to share with mum and dad, and they were always right there next to me but…”

The boy trails off, huddling a little more against the door, and Bruce knows where the thought is going. He hadn’t thought about this – that Dick has, until now, basically been living in one room with his parents his entire life. He’s probably never slept further than an arm’s length away from them, has always had them within sight, within reach, their presence constant and steady in a way beyond even what Bruce remembers of his parents. Of course it would be hard for him to suddenly be alone in his own room, which is one of many in a huge manor house.

For a minute Bruce is quiet, uncertain. He has trained and studied in many things, but childcare is not one of them. He has never been the emotional type, and he has never been in charge of comforting someone else before. He had known what to do in the direct aftermath of Dick’s parents’ deaths, because he had been there, could see himself all too clearly in the blank, wide-eyed stare of the small boy. Everything after that had been accidents and guesswork.

He tries to put himself in Dick’s shoes again – thinks of himself as a small child, unable to sleep at night in this very manor. He remembers clutching to a soft plush toy, hiding under blankets – he remembers padding to his parents’ room and hesitantly peeping in.

_“I had a bad dream.” He murmurs, still clutching to his teddy bear. His father smiles kindly at him and gestures him over._

_“There’s room in here for one more, don’t you think Martha?” He murmurs._

_“I reckon so.” His mother agrees, and she reaches down to pluck Bruce up onto the bed as he hurries over to them. She settles him between her and his father, tucking their blankets around him. He curls up, warm and safe, and is asleep within minutes._

“Well, I reckon there’s enough room for two in here.” Bruce pats the bed next to him. Dick looks at him for a moment, uncertain. “Come on kid, I promise I don’t bite.” Bruce smiles.

Dick rewards him with a small, shy smile of his own, and hurries over to the bed and clambers in. Bruce peels back the blankets and tucks them carefully around Dick, watching the smile on the boy’s face settle into softness. On a whim, he gently brushes the kid’s hair back with a hand.

“Sleep well, Dick.” He murmurs, settling himself down as well. He thinks he hears a mumble in reply, but Dick sounds like he’s already well on his way to sleep.

Bruce falls asleep to the sound of the boy’s soft, even breathing.

 

 

 

 

(Years later, when Dick starts fighting for independence, when every other week results in a screaming match and Dick marching off to stay at Mount Justice, Bruce will think back to the years of this routine and wonder if maybe he understands how Dick had such trouble sleeping in a big, empty room in a big, empty mansion.)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!! Just a sweet little bit of fluff. As always, feedback is always welcome!


End file.
